


fighting with a true love (is boxing with no gloves)

by firrehearrt



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, MAAS Sarah J. - Works
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Oneshot, Songfic, don't we all, feyre needs a Nap, i feel like this had the potential for soft smut but oh well, kind of, not canon compliant with acofas, quick little fight, soft moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:41:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28167162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firrehearrt/pseuds/firrehearrt
Summary: After weeks of seemingly never-ending exhaustion, Feyre blows up at Rhys.Lightly inspired by Taylor Swift's Afterglow.
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Kudos: 42





	fighting with a true love (is boxing with no gloves)

**Author's Note:**

> here have some fluff...
> 
> now I know what you're thinking, 'harmony are you physically capable of that' and the answer would be a no because this is like mostly angst but then at the end it's happy cuddle times!! so!!
> 
> also when I wrote cocoon my first thought was Bugs Life like where did that come from and is that movie even real or did I hallucinate it as a child if it's real is it on disney plus cause it's a pixar thing right and yeah anyways I spiraled 
> 
> title is from Taylor Swift's Afterglow
> 
> unedited cause it's midnight and i was trying to fall asleep and then my brain was like !NO! write! now. so. yeah.
> 
> oh yeah 1 more thing I have not finished acofas in fact I got like five pages in and couldn't so this is post-canon but pretend that book doesnt exist

There are times - that Feyre doesn’t like to pay mind to - that anger feels like power. Times when she is reduced to the simple huntress in the forest, fighting tooth and nail to keep her family alive, and being paid shit in return. 

Spite ran through her body then, coaxing her to run faster, aim better, barter a cut above what she had the day before. 

Back then, all she had was that spite, the determination to prove herself amongst her family and the people that looked down on them. 

Even now though, that ugly beast rears its head from time to time, reminding her of its constant presence. It’s not often, anymore, thank goodness, that she feels uncaged anger. 

But when it does, it terrifies her. 

Never has it been directed at Rhys before, and that’s the scariest part of it all. 

Everyone’s been on edge for a few weeks, having to deal with the Court of Nightmares more than they prefer to, not to mention meetings upon meetings. All of their family is exhausted, but despite all of this, they’ve been careful not to take it out on each other. Snippy comments have thrown here and there, and truthfully, her and Rhys have been tenser than usual, but things were just busy right now, it would blow over quickly. 

Until Feyre found everyone lounging in the townhouse, a quiet that was rare in the past few weeks over everyone. 

More importantly, none of them were doing _anything._

And it had set her off. She’d been in her office all day, responding to enough letters that her hand had cramped a few times, but even then, she’d found other ways to occupy her time until she could write again. Cauldron, she hadn’t even stopped to eat lunch, and they’d been vegging. Cassian had let out a soft snore from his place on the couch, and her anger had boiled over. Rhys had sensed it, off course he had, but before he could get a word in edgewise, she’d spoken. 

“Everyone out. Now.” A dangerous calm in her voice promising retribution. Amren had already been on her way out, but Mor quickly winnowed her Cas and Az out. 

Leaving her and Rhys. 

“Darling-” he starts, and really, this is not the day. 

“Don’t darling me, I have been working my ass off all day, and the first time I get up to get water no one else is doing anything? What, am I supposed to run everything now?”

“It’s really not that big of a deal, everyone needed a few hours off.” His voice is soothing, understanding, and normally she’d appreciate that, melt right into it. He moves towards her, and she steps back, that icy rage coursing through her like adrenaline. Just as quick though, she takes back her step, dropping the pile she’d been carting around into his arms. 

“Why don’t you deal with all of that, and I’ll take the rest of the day off,” Feyre sneers, sarcasm seeping into her voice. 

Rhys raises a brow, and cauldron, can he just get mad at her?

“If that would help you feel a little bit better, I can take care of things.” She stomps her foot, arms crossed over her chest. 

“I feel fine, it’s everyone around me not doing anything that’s setting me off, and you know that.” 

“Feyre, darling-”

“Don’t call me that.” For a moment, she considers hearing him out, but a throb of pain in her head that’s been there all day adds fuel to the fire. “In fact, don’t come home tonight. You can stay at the House of Wind.”

His eyes soften impossibly further, taking a step towards her, again. 

She shakes her head. 

“Just go.”

And he winnows, there one moment and gone the next. 

She grabs a glass of water, letting the anger settle, and then heads up to their room, fully intending on indulging in a nap, since everyone else is. She collapses on their bed, suddenly immersed in his scent, and promptly proceeds to cry. 

She pulls her knees to her chest, suddenly aching for him next to her, a physical cavity in her chest screaming out. 

Fighting with Rhys never feels good, not that it happens often, but even the littlest disagreements tug at her, as though the mating bond refuses to accept their actions, trying to pull them back in time. 

And in their few years together, this is by far the worst thing she’s ever felt. Worse than those fae periods, worse than the time training with Cassian got too rough. 

She falls asleep curled up into herself. The tears run out, and sleep grasps her in its palm, softly lulling the pain away. 

He’s not there when she wakes up, though, she really has no reason to think he would be. It was another day of paperwork and planning, not something they necessarily needed each other for. Not to mention everything she’d said the night before. 

She’s embarrassed, no, mortified. No headache, no exhaustion was excuse enough for that. Part of her yearns to go see him, apologize (beg). But her pride, that part of her she’s never quite proud of, keeps her from it. 

She makes breakfast, missing him beside her, critiquing her every culinary move. Misses the nonsensical discussions they have across from each other at the table. Her body aches as she bathes, aches as she settles in to get some work done. Aches when she takes a break to write a letter to write and send to Rhys, still too horrified to face him herself. Aches when she tosses draft after draft into the fireplace. 

She gives up, turning back to work, getting through as much as she can until the light dims, the oranges and pinks of the sunset fading in through the window. 

He’s not there, as she drifts to sleep for a second time, clutching one of his pillows to her, as though that might make it hurt less. 

But in the morning, there’s a noticeable weight in the bed next to her, and there he is, propped up on an elbow, a soft smile reserved just for her. 

She throws her arms around him, aware that she’s pathetic but not particularly caring in that moment. 

He just laughs in her ear, wrapping her up in his arms and that awful burning in her body leaves, melting away as he pulls her into him, impossibly tighter. 

“I’m so sorry Rhys.” He presses a kiss to her forehead in response, and cauldron, she doesn’t deserve this man. 

“All forgiven, love.”

She pulls back, meeting those impossibly violet eyes with her own. 

“I love you, so so so much.” He smiles, meeting her lips with his own. He brushes a piece of hair back from her face, nothing but them, them, them, in this perfect cocoon. 

“You can let yourself have hard days, darling. We all do.” Tears reach her eyes at the reminder of the words once uttered to her, with love she didn’t quite know was there. 

“Just don’t let the hard days win.” She repeats. 

His smile brightens, and his arms squeeze her. “Exactly.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/firrehearrt) if you want to come scream with me about literally nothing and everything. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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